


Apples and Second Chances

by BrytteMystere



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed II - Fandom, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: But her patron goddess absolutely encourages her to go have babies, Especially if it's with Ezio, F/M, I know I should be working on my other fics, Lucrezia is kind of an Oracle, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, The Isu will meddle as much as they can, This will be a mess I warn you, Underage for future 16-year-old Lucrezia with 37-year-old Ezio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrytteMystere/pseuds/BrytteMystere
Summary: When Lucrezia Borgia is visited by none other than Venere, given an Apple of Eden and a mission, she'll have to leave everything she ever knew behind, if only for a hope of saving her family from themselves.Ezio Auditore will certainly learn soon that having Lucrezia as his unexpected protegè may not be as easy as expected.





	1. The Borgia Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under her Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838563) by [EADF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EADF/pseuds/EADF). 
  * Inspired by [A Conflict Of Interest](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/248002) by Coilerfan35. 
  * Inspired by [Ghost in the Machine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075875) by [Illeana Starbright (SunlightOnTheWater)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/Illeana%20Starbright). 
  * Inspired by [we get dark, only to shine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185961) by [Elizabeth (anghraine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anghraine/pseuds/Elizabeth). 
  * Inspired by [No longing for the sun](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/255326) by Amelia-Scars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I’ll start editing my Pedmund fics son enough. I just... My computer broke, I had to get enough money to fix it, and end-term exams are already breathing down my neck. Plus, I have to somehow figure out a way to properly express myself to my psychiatrist, so that she may be able to make a proper diagnosis. Honestly, I know not many of you will read this, but I’m trying my best and since I’ve been distracting myself with Assassin’s Creed lately, becoming quite obsessed with this ship, I thought I would write something (since there’s so little love for these two) to get some stress out.  
> Again, many thanks to NickeltheRed for being awesome.

 

_14 December 1492, Monteriggioni_

 

          Someone was knocking at the door.

          Claudia, grumbling to herself about men in her life with a worrying tendency to be anywhere but at home most of the time, rose to see who it was. After all, it was very late already, the few servants around the villa had been dismissed hours ago and she didn’t want to disturb her mother’s rest. The knocking was loud enough to resonate all through the villa’s seemingly endless silence, or maybe it was just that the unexpected visitor was particularly spirited. _Whoever_ they were, though, they would certainly get a piece of her mind... Or even taste her blade, if the mysterious guest ended up being an enemy.

          She opened the door, her purple night robe tightly closed even if the night was warm enough to not need it, her dagger hidden within one of its pockets, hair down and feet hastily put on her trusted short boots.

          At a first glance, she thought she may have been pranked, not seeing anyone instantly in sight, but her eyes didn’t take long to notice the wrapped silhouette of something that looked like quite the ornate staff, if mostly hidden under what she guessed had once been white rags, now heavily covered in mud, as if the wielder had let it fall several times.

_‘Wait... Wielder? Staff?’_

          Indeed, the staff was strapped to a caped figure’s back, a girl if she had to guess by the dress alone. She was several inches shorter than Claudia, and so the Auditore hadn’t seen her at first.

          Now that she had, though, she couldn’t keep herself from wondering who, exactly, was the mysterious girl. After all, she seemed like a bunch of contradictions suddenly mashed together: her hair, or what little peaked of it from her under her cape, looked golden and lustrous, speaking of a life of luxury that didn’t match up at all with her ragged–and clearly poor–clothes.

          The girl took off the hood of her cape, letting her face–fair like freshly fallen snow, skin clear and smooth-looking, again an impossible contrast with her clothes–, with all her exhaustion and despair _there_ for all to see, so vulnerable that it took Claudia by surprise.

          “Is Ezio Auditore qui?” asked the girl, who couldn’t be older than twelve, voice wavering and desperation so thickly poured into each syllable that the woman could not bear to tell her that her brother would probably remain missing for months on end, as was his custom since becoming an Assassin.

          “Who asks for him?” said Claudia, even as she allowed the girl to pass into the villa’s parlour, which she instantly regretted when the girl answered.

          “Lucrezia Borgia. I have a proposal for him...”

          The dagger was out and ready in an instant, the girl’s reflexes the only thing that saved her from being stabbed, just as a golden force-field of sorts surrounded her, repelling all further attacks, ‘till Claudia controlled herself and backed away, if still ready to pounce at the sightless opportunity. The cute twelve year-old in front of her had, to her eyes, transformed into a dangerous snake she had to treat carefully and eliminate as soon as possible.

          Cold blue eyes were fixed on her through whatever sorcery surrounded her, head slightly tilted to one side as if the girl–no, not a girl, the _Borgia_ –was trying to figure her out.

          “Umf... I guess I should have seen that coming. Or maybe I just expected that you would have enough sense as to hear me out before trying to kill me. But then, I know of Ezio, not you... Ohhh, what to do, what to do?”

          “What do you want, _Borgia?”_

          “Such contempt. I have done nothing against you or yours. My father is your enemy, not me. And yet you would make me pay for his crimes? Without bothering to attend to reason? Aren’t you supposed to be _one of the good guys_?”

          “A Borgia is a Borgia. And anyone who presents themselves at such an hour has shadowed motives. Why would I trust the daughter of the man who conspired to end my family?”

          “Because I have taken a Piece of Eden from him, with the express motive to give it to Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Because I’ve risked my life to reach this place, leaving behind my family and everything I’ve ever loved, to help the Assassin Order against the Templars. Because what I’ve done would make my own father kill me remorselessly. _Claudia Auditore_ , whatever dark emotion you may be harbouring against me now to want to murder me so recklessly, know this: there’s something much bigger than us in play, and nor you nor anyone will keep me from playing my part in this matter. I must warn your brother of a great danger. Whether I do so with your help or without it, I don’t care. But don’t for a second think that I’ll give up on my mission.”

 

          “Then state your case, _Lucrezia Borgia_. I’m right here.”

 

          The voice brought both girls’ attention towards the still-open front door, where none other than Ezio Auditore himself stood, still wearing his Assassin clothes, just returned from Spain.

          The girl’s whole demeanour, right in front of Claudia’s somewhat shocked face, changed in an instant.

          Her confident, determined stance melted into a fidgeting mess, hands ending up tightly clasped under her chin, previously unwavering stare locked then on some spot between her feet even as she blushed up to her ears. She seemed to take a minute or two to regain her composure, during which Claudia easily hid again her dagger, while her brother kept staring at the Borgia girl, expression unknown under his hood, body tense but not overly hostile.

          Claudia could almost imagine him rising an eyebrow. The Borgia girl soon drew her attention again, though, because she seemed to take a deep breath to steady herself, before taking the wrapped staff from where it had lied more or less diagonally on her back, holding it as if to steady herself, as she finally managed to rise her gaze from her feet towards Ezio, Claudia seemingly forgotten to her.

          “ _Ezio Auditore..._ There are many things I must tell you, but first, I would like to ask for your protection.”

          “My protection? From what, if I may?”

          “My family,” stated the girl, voice wavering as if the mere statement pained her. “I have ways to pay you, be certain of that. The message... The message I will relay to you anyway, but first I would like to know if you would accept to protect me.”

          Ezio tilted his head to one side, questioning, and the girl didn’t seem to need any more prompting, even as she relied more heavily in the wrapped staff to keep her balance, as her legs started trembling. Had she been anyone but a Borgia, Claudia would have interrupted the whole conversation to insist passing to the study so the girl could sit, but seeing as she _was_ , a part of her could not be bothered to do so. Furthermore, knowing what would make the _precious Borgia Princess_ want to run away from her family was far too interesting to wait.

          “Not long ago I received a message... A gift, or a curse, depending on how one may want to see it. A woman shrouded in golden mist appeared to me, and told me of my future were I to follow my father’s wishes. What would become of the world, if he triumphed in his efforts. She said she had had many names, but allowed me to refer to her as _Venere_. And she told me of the Vault under the Cappella Sistina, of the Pieces of Eden, and what they could do... Venere granted me a gift, of sorts, and with it, gave me a mission: to find you, the Prophet, and warn you of the dangers you approach. To grant you one of the Keys you’ll need to enter the Vault, knowing that you’ll manage to recover the other soon enough.”

          And while saying so, she unwrapped her staff, unveiling nothing less than the very papal staff that had not long ago been given to her father, shining once it touched her skin without barriers.

          “This is my price, Ezio Auditore. This was entrusted to me, and now I’ll give it to you, in exchange of your protection. So, say, will you?”

          The Assassin approached her with the grace of a panther, effortlessly taking the Staff from her extended hands. Claudia wasn’t sure if it was some kind of illusion, but the thing seemed to shine even more brightly in his hands.

          “Consider yourself under my protection then, Lucrezia Borgia,” he said.

* * *

 

          None of them could have had _an inkling_ of how complicated the situation would get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my knowledge is limited to Assassin’s Creed I, II and Brotherhood, with parts of Revelations. Also, yes, Venere is Aphrodite and she has decided to join Juno and Minerva in meddling with humans. This is situated five months after Rodrigo Borgia’s crowning as Pope, and yes, Lucrezia has stolen the Papal Staff (a Piece of Eden and one of the Keys to the Vault in the Sistine Chapel) from him. She also has an Apple of Eden, which is what caused the weird-ish lightshow with the force field. That one is not the same Savonarola has by the timeline. The one Lucrezia has, which was given to her by Venere (yes I’m going to keep using the Italian name), is actually the one Altaïr left and Ezio discovered in Revelations.  
> Long Author’s Note, sorry, but just wanted to say... Don’t take this too seriously. But it will be Ezio/Lucrezia endgame (slow burn, though, since Lu is still 12 at this point and has barely escaped getting married off to Giovanni Sforza, while Ezio is like 33 or something).


	2. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a review, and thus I decided to post another scene before my end-of-term exams catch me and I’m unable to do so. Anyway, here it is. Consider this inspired by Campbell’s Monomyth. I still don’t really know what’s going on, so let’s all take this journey together. Warning: This hasn’t been beta’d. Cause I have no patience, mostly.

_6 September 1492, Roma_

          It all started with a dream.

{ **xXxXx** }

          Lucrezia Borgia started dreaming with the spirit not 26 days after her father had been named pope.

          The figure was female, of that much she was sure. From what little she could remember about the dreams once she was recalled to consciousness, the woman held a glowing orb on her right hand, and even if the woman herself had never spoken a word, her whole posture seemed to call her.

 _‘Come and see, little girl,’_ it seemed to say. _‘Come, see, learn...’_

          And the girl, the foolish girl that had been carefully kept from harm all her life, loved and cherished, _innocent_ , saw not the danger in such a calling. For she, Lucrezia–whom her siblings lovingly called _she who walks on clouds_ , a ray of pure, innocent light in a family so tied up by intrigue and the relentless, senseless hatred from those who could never accept that _bastards and Spaniards_ had managed to reach such high positions in the very heart of Rome–, had never quite understood the dangers of _knowing too much_.

 _‘He who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow,’_ had her mother once told her.

By the time Lucrezia truly understood the warning, it was already too late.

{ **xXxXx** }

          It would have been easier to convince Cesare.

          It _would_ have been easier to convince her oldest brother, but as much as she knew _that_ , Lucrezia was also well aware that hiding anything from him would prove impossible. As much as she loved him, as much as she trusted him with her life, the young girl was also well aware that her eldest brother would do all he could to protect her, up to and including hiding information from her. And even if she _knew_ that one day she would be able to draw any truth from him, regardless of how he tried to divert her questions, she also knew that _that day_ had yet to arrive.

          So she had not gone to Cesare, who would have easily agreed to her wishes, if getting far more information than she was willing to share in the process.

          No. The one she went to was her second older brother. _Giovanni Borgia_ , better known as _Juan_ –if only to tell him apart from the many _Giovannis_ that seemed to habit their beloved Italian Peninsula–, would have never been her first option. She had always preferred Cesare over him, maybe because quite early on she had realized that their father had always seemed to favour Juan instead.

          Why else would he have burdened _Cesare_ with the cloth, when he was his first-born (of Vannozza, at the very least), especially when taking into account how much her brother _yearned_ for freedom from it? Why else would her father continuously praise Juan, regardless of his many, _many_ faults, over Cesare?

_‘Focus, Lucrezia.’_

          Ah, indeed. It would have been easier to convince Cesare to do as she wished, but if there was one brother she could already and quite effectively obtain information from without giving anything away, it was Juan.

          It wasn’t as if she had many options, either. Gioffre, her only younger brother, and the most easily talked into anything from them all, was too young to be able to help her, and she dared not to go to her father. Something in her dreams had thoroughly assured her that _that_ would not end well. And anyway, as much as her father loved and favoured her, he was prone to babying her even more than Cesare. So Juan it was.

* * *

 

_She was still a child, too. But she was twelve, and she believed she knew far more than she actually did, as usually happens at her age. For she may have been born a Borgia, but Lucrezia had lived her life free from the tales of Templars and Assassins, free from the true dangers that awaited those poor innocents that dared to go in search of knowledge, unaware of how painful truth can be._

_Unprepared._

_Clueless._

_Had Cesare–who himself had been introduced into the Templar Order not too long ago–had even an inkling of what she had set herself to do, he would have most certainly tried to warn her. But alas, he didn’t, too busy keeping his family safe from all those who wanted to see them dead to realise that his most beloved had slipped right between his fingers._

* * *

 

          Now, Juan Borgia could be easily found in any Roman whorehouse, never quite bothering to appear around their mother’s villa until well past midday, unless their father had seen fit to send Cesare to get him before. Lucrezia, though, could not simply wander into the whorehouses in search of him, like Cesare most certainly did, so she had to improvise.

          With a beaming smile here and some gold there, one of her mother’s servants went to get Juan for her. Goal set and soul brimming with determination, Lucrezia mentally revised her intended speech one last time.

{ **xXxXx** }

          “Brother!” She exclaimed happily as she offered him some grapes, as if he hadn’t taken almost _two hours_ to get to the villa.

          Juan patted her head lovingly, and she endured it even if he still smelled like sex and liquor, for as awful as he could be, he loved her too. Not as much as their eldest brother–no one could ever love her like Cesare did–but he did feel affection towards her. She was still his little sister, after all. As much animosity as he could show towards Cesare–and she had to admit that such an attitude was most of what kept her from truly loving Juan–, the worst thing Juan had ever done to her was breaking her toys when he felt like lashing out due to her obvious favour towards their eldest brother, and that had been many years ago.

          “So, sis, I heard you wanted to see me?” He said, picking a small bunch of grapes and sitting by her side at the table, charming smile on as his hazel eyes focused on her.

          A part of her hated what she was about to do, knowing that if Cesare ever heard about how she had chosen _Juan_ to protect her over him–and he would certainly hear about it, from Micheletto Corella if not from Juan himself, which taking into account her brother’s tendency to gloat whenever he thought he had won something over their eldest brother, could very well happen–, it would hurt him deeply.

          She beamed at her brother, dismissing her dark musing by telling herself that she would surely get to explain the whole situation to her most beloved family member–the one she almost considered her soul twin, regardless of the 5 years that separated them–, once she reached the Temple the woman of her dreams had shown her, once she learned whatever her spirit wanted to tell her.

_‘Well, Lu, let’s see how this goes...’_

(She would later wish Juan had ever agreed to anything. To never have gone searching for _that woman’s_ knowledge. It would be far too late for that.)

{ **xXxXx** }

          Juan and Lucrezia parted that very night, with the full moon illuminating their way.

          They had only taken one horse, and so Lucrezia had to hold on tightly to her brother’s waist as they galloped towards Santa Maria Nova, and il Tempio di Venere e Roma that lied both by the church and _under_ it.

          Convincing her brother had been difficult, mostly due to everything that going to Juan and not Cesare implied. That she had had to weave her words carefully–to keep Juan from feeling like the second option he truly was–had added to the difficulty, but at least she was good enough to appeal to Juan’s ego and his rarely called upon ‘duties’ as her older brother. Had she gone to Cesare, merely expressing a wish to visit the church and the temple would have been enough, but _alas_...

 

          When they arrived, when she stood on the temple’s grounds for the very first time, her sight changed, the world turning a monotone shade of grey, in which her brother seemed to shine blue. She gasped, delighted, when she saw her spirit in the distance. The answers to all her questions were painfully close, and so she beamed a smile towards Juan, who seemed to have resigned himself to watch her dawdle around with the amusedly baffled expression of those who take are of adorable but clearly airheaded loved ones.

          A part of her felt insulted, but he had taken her to her destiny without many questions, apparently content enough knowing that for once, at least, she had chosen him instead of their elder brother. He had his sword read by his side, and as much as she at times wished he could hit his head against a wall–for Juan could truly unnerve her at times–, she knew that he would do his best to protect her.

_‘Were you a different man, Joan. If only you hadn’t set yourself as Cesare’s rival so thoroughly... Maybe, just maybe, we could have been close too.’_

          She let him tie his horse by the church, before taking his hand and leading him towards the woman of her dreams, who shone gold even through the walls that still separated them.

          Lucrezia followed the indications, mere whispers brought by the winds to her ears alone, and found a secret passage from Santa Maria Nova towards the underground parts of il Tempio di Venere e Roma the church had been built on, Juan following swiftly, if not as stealthily or with as much grace as Cesare would have had.

          And as they got to the temple, she mused about the woman in her dreams, as well as the dread that for some reason had started to pool inside of her. Standing right in front of the last door, the one she knew was all that remained between her and her price, all her excitement seemed to have turned to ashes in her mouth.

_‘Why had I wanted so much to reach this place?’_

          The dread had turned into an increasingly horrifying realisation, as the whispers–that mere seconds ago had seemed like the loving guidance of a mother–turned into awful voices promising woe and pain to those who dared to go through the door. What had seemed like a golden glow around the woman of her dreams was now merely golden light, almost painful in its intensity, as the world around her remained grey. As Juan, behind her, still shone blue.

          “I’m scared, brother,” she said, voice trembling. For her life, she could not understand how her brother still seemed so utterly nonchalant when the atmosphere around them had turned into...

          “What for, Lucrècia? I’m here. Didn’t you want to reach... whatever is behind that door? Don’t worry, sis. I won’t let any harm come upon you...”

          He kept talking, and Lucrezia guessed that he was trying to reassure her, but she had turned him out quite quickly. The voices he didn’t seem to hear were far louder, and her brother’s voice had long been drowned under them.

          Behind the door, something awful awaited.

          Behind the door, something magnificent awaited.

_‘Come forth, child. Come forth, come forth, come forth...’_

          Her doubts vanished. She took the final step towards the door, and set her trembling hand on the shining space that _called her_.

* * *

 

_A flash of a man, long ago, and a family that had extended all the way from western Asia, through the Mediterranean Sea._

_White robes and hidden blades. Red crosses and swords._

_A legacy that would prevail in shadows._

_Her own bloodline, Assassin and Templar both._

_Two names._

_Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad._

_Maria Thorpe._

* * *

 

          She woke up–although maybe it should be said that she regained awareness of some of her surroundings, because no more than a second had passed–to the door sliding open, and the moment her eyes caught the glowing orb that lied calmly in the middle of the room, she ran towards it.

_‘Altaïr’s Apple of Eden...’_

          It shouldn’t be there, in Rome. Something told her that the Apple should be far away, hidden, and yet it was undeniable that it was _there_ , right in front of her.

          She heard, as if from a great distance, Juan calling her name, and she only had a second or so to wonder why he had sounded so suddenly terrified, before her hands reached the Apple and its golden glow seemed to devour her whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see with this chapter, I meant it when I said this would be non-linear. More or less. What I mean with this is, flashback chapters. Like this one. Also, this looked like a perfect place to cut it. Again, this story will be Ezio/Lucrezia. Just... It will be slow-burn, okay? And there will be no Sofia Sartor. Also, yes. I went there. I made the Borgias descendants of Altaïr. This may or may not have to do with the fact that I just discovered that my great grandmother on my mother's side was a Borja. Which, you know, just happens to be the actual surname of the Borgias. Please do bear with me.


	3. A Not-So-Bleak Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day, because I was meant to write only one, but it got too long and I realised I had to cut it somewhere, unless y’all wanted to have a 5k words monstrosity in one tirade. Which, in hindsight, can be perfectly avoidable, so... Well, that, and that having such disparity between chapter lengths would irk me to no end (ironically, this chapter is almost 4k).

_18 April 1493, Monteriggioni_

          Lucrezia Borgia awoke the morning of her thirteenth birthday to the sound of clashing steel that had greeted her most mornings for the last four or so months.

          The sound in question came from her window, for her chamber had so happened to be one of the many facing the training grounds that lied right in front of the villa’s portal.

          Lucrezia knew well who was causing it, without needing to check. After all, if she had learned something about gli Auditore since her arrival, was that Claudia Auditore would take any and all chances to distract herself from the villa’s books, training as an Assassin–and Lucrezia was still unsure if Ezio approved or even knew about it–being one of her favourite ways of doing so. _Especially_ when her brother, like right then, wasn’t around.

 _‘To each their own,’_ she mused.

          To be honest, Lucrezia wasn’t sure of what, exactly, she had been expecting when she had set to fulfil the mission Venere had seen fit to give her. Reach Ezio Auditore, surely. Give him the message. Maybe being assassinated right after.

          After all, Altaïr’s Apple would have only protected ‘till Venere’s message reached its intended receiver.

          What she had certainly not seen coming was Ezio’s kindness, what with him ordering a room to be prepared for her, not far from his, and sending her off to sleep instead of interrogating her further that very night.

* * *

          Being able to bathe properly, with warm water no less, and sleeping in a proper bed had been as much of a blessing as it had been a curse.

          The warm water made more pronounced all her wounds–the small cuts she had endured while galloping through the woods, or the shallow cut of a knife by her side, from when she had been too exhausted and had made the mistake of leaving Altaïr’s Apple in her horse’s saddle–, as well as the tenderness of her flesh, from the long ride her body wasn’t used to endure. The soft bed had brought horrifying flashbacks to that life she had lived and yet not, and she had awakened the very next morning panting, expecting to see her thighs covered in blood as her body, weakened by the labour that had and hadn’t happened, gave up at long last.

          Her mind was a mess, but then, she had known it would happen. She had felt it, before going into the chamber where Venere would reveal herself to her, where all her life as she knew it would end, sending her into a chain of events that had ended with her stealing her father’s papal staff and reaching Ezio Auditore.

          She had been given a mission. A hope, if one could possibly call it so, to avoid the awful life that awaited her–that _would_ have awaited her–had Venere not seen fit to involve herself.

 

_“I’m one of the last ones. Me, and Juno, is all what remains of our great civilisation. Me, child, and ghosts. I’m not Juno, child, nor am I Minerva, or Jupiter. I, who always loved humanity. I, who always saw in you more than the tools most of my kin thought of you as. My siblings have had enough playtime. I’m done waiting.”_

_“What would you have me do?”_

_“I’ll send you with a warning. For your Prophet. Hear, Lucrezia Borgia...”_

 

          The young girl knew, well enough, that she was still a pawn. That Venere, as much as she loved to feign herself above the Triad’s games, was merely forcing her way into a game she had been deliberately left out of. For just as when she unleashed those two humans, Adam and Eve (and wasn’t that just _perfect_ ), with an Apple of Eden, all Venere seemed to want was entertainment. Not that Lucrezia could blame her.

          Ever since meeting the goddess (for as much as the woman would deny it, to her _she was_ ), eternity seemed the worst of the curses the young girl could ever think of.

          When it came to those in power, if there was something the Borgia girl _knew_ was that they thought themselves as above consequences. Above morality, above everything. She had seen the life that would have awaited her, what path she would have been forced to walk through, and as egoistical as it may have seemed, Lucrezia was glad that the goddess’ chaotic nature had brought her to interfere with her life.

          The last time Venere had gotten involved, humanity had been able to start a war for their freedom. It wasn’t Venere’s fault that the First Civilisation had been more preoccupied with regaining its slaves than with finding ways to preserve their planet.

          Now the goddess wished to act again, if only to interfere in another couple of human lives, and through her, a new message would be sent, so that many years into the future, that man Minerva and Juno and Jupiter had so fixed about– _Desmond_ , they called him–would have a third option. So that _that man_ would then save them all.

          Lucrezia would certainly not complain.

          And, anyway, the goddess wouldn’t have allowed it.

{ **xXxXx** }

          Lucrezia sighed, remembering the awkward breakfast that had followed, and how Ezio had kept treating her kindly all through her nervous attempts to pass on the full extent of the message she had been ordered to give him.

          If she expected him to know more about the mysterious _Desmond_ , or the Triad’s plans, she found herself disappointed then and there, because he knew far less than her. But then, Venere had mentioned repeatedly that her kin tended to be far less prone to treat humans properly. So Lucrezia had soldiered on, and had told him all she had been told about the whole situation. Or so she had meant to do.

          She had awakened to sunlight in her face, tucked into the bed she had slept in the previous night, wearing only her undergarments–her own, for she had only bothered to put on a servant’s outer dress, its undergarments far too itchy for her sensitive skin–, a new dress to borrow set by the bed. The corset had been thankfully loosened, not that it had been tightly tied in the first place, and after a brief moment of panic, she felt the bag with Altaïr’s Apple (would she ever stop considering it _Altaïr’s_?) still between her legs, and as she took it out of its bag, she thanked her stars for having put it _under_ her undergarments. If someone had seen it and tried to take it away...

_“Another has paid for your second chance, Lucrezia Borgia. But just as she paid, you must as well. This Apple will grant you great knowledge, but hear: your soul is now bound to it. Take care not to have it taken away from you. The consequences for you then would be... Don’t let it be taken from you.”_

          She had planned to tell Ezio about the Apple that night. But then, she had not planned to fall asleep, and part of her was horrified of having showed such weakness in front of _Ezio_ , of all people. By the time she had been ready to get out of her room, Apple safely in its bag by her legs again, the Assassin had left again, and she chose to wait ‘till his return.

          She certainly wasn’t going to admit to _Claudia_ that she could be killed off–or worse–that easily.

 

          More than four months had passed, however, and the Assassin had still not returned.

_It was her birthday and no one knew or seemed to care._

          Her mind was a mess of her _actual_ life and the one that _could have but wouldn’t be_.

* * *

 

          Lucrezia Borgia rose from her bed, and readied herself for the day.

          She wasn’t Claudia Auditore. Knifes and swords were not her style, not really. Even that _other-her_ had preferred... more _subtle_ methods. And anyway, under Ezio’s protection or not, it would be a cold day in hell when Claudia allowed her, _a Borgia_ , access to weapons of any kind.

          She didn’t mind. The Apple continuously promised to offer her great knowledge, if at a price, and so Lucrezia had set a goal for herself, for her new life. If her family was doomed to cause death, and pain, and destruction, then _she_ would learn to bring life, and heal, and create.

          There was a doctor, in Monteriggioni, and Lucrezia, under the guise of Lucrezia Cattanei–she told herself that using her mother’s family name was perfectly _fine_ –had become his apprentice, more or less.

          She had to start somewhere, after all, and a prolonged use of the Apple left her in pain and exhausted, so she told herself that learning from the _dottore_ was good enough for starters. She would take meticulous notes, to later use the Apple and find other ways to do those things she considered needed an alternative. Eventually, she would find herself using the Apple to get the dottore to improve his treatments and medicines, just as she had used it to get him to accept her as his apprentice in the first place. But right then, she limited herself to learn, learn, _learn_ , as much as she could.

          If a part of echoed _in high enough doses, that which cures can kill_ , no one needed to know. After all, the Apple had shown her multiple times that when it came to medicine, those who knew how and why the body failed, were those who better learned how to heal and recompose it, if not taken by bloodlust and cruelty.

          So she went to the dottore’s store, and set herself to start the day, taking notes and helping with selling the vials of medicine as well as those of poison, as well as with the most minor of cases. Domenico Goretti, il dottore, had just gone to tend to a woman during labour, leaving her to tend the store for a while, when none other than Ezio Auditore approached the store, in need of both medicine and poison.

          It took him an instant or two to realise that it was, in fact, Lucrezia the one tending the store, instead of Domenico, just as it took an instant or two for Lucrezia to realise that the new customer was, in fact, Ezio. Telling who was more surprised would have been hard, but when the silence lasted long enough to become painfully awkward, Lucrezia gathered both the medicine and the poison vials and set them orderly on the table, for the Assassin to take at his leisure.

          “These will be on the house, I think,” she said at long last, eyes fixed in her fingers as she fidgeted in place.

          He was staring at her, of this she was sure. She felt his gaze on her in a way she couldn’t fully understand yet. She _also_ felt the blush that his focus on her invariably caused, and damned not for the first time, and surely not for the last, both what the Apple had identified as _hormones_ and the memory of a kiss that had and hadn’t happened.

_‘Focus, Lucrezia, **focus**.’_

          “... _Lucrezia?”_

          His tone alone was enough to imply the question. She took a deep breath, told herself to _focus_ again, and decided to act as normally as possible.

          “Ezio.”

          He had implied a question. But it was _her birthday_ , and as much as it would surely pass unremarked by most, she was determined not to show her nervousness. Learning medicine, after all, was all she had as properly _hers_ nowadays. If he wanted to know more, he could at least bother to ask properly. She was _determined_ , and–

          “Would you come in? I think we should have this discussion inside.”

          Well. Apparently her mouth had decided otherwise.

          At least Ezio had finally taken the vials, putting each in its proper place, somehow without needing to take his eyes away from her. She opened the door for him, set the warning bell in the table, and guided him inside.

{ **xXxXx** }

          “Il Dottore had to go attend a woman in labour. The house its nearby, if you wanted to know, but the woman had a rather complicated pregnancy and il dottore thought it would be best not to move her.”

          “Lucrezia... What are you doing here?” He said, and she would have felt offended if not for his next words. “It could be dangerous! Did something happen at the villa?”

_‘He’s... He’s... Concerned?’_

          “Was I meant to remain at the villa doing nothing? I’m Lucrezia _Cattanei_ , here. Like my mother. I’ve been learning medicine with il dottore. It took some convincing, but eventually he accepted to teach me, as long as I promised to take my duties seriously. I thought... I told Claudia, before taking up this, since you weren’t... well.”

          He was looking at her, as if she was a puzzle he needed to solve. Not for the last time, she wondered why he of all people always managed to break through her poise. With him around, her composure seemed to vanish, and it was as baffling as it was annoying.

          “You’re learning how to heal, then?” He said, his tone again light and charming, as if she being a doctor’s apprentice was the most usual happenstance in the world.

_‘Wait. The Apple. He’s back, I can tell him about it...’_

          “Indeed. I... Ezio, there’s something I must tell you,” she said then, because as much as she would like to make idle chatter, she would rather not have it look as if she had been trying to keep something from him. So she took a deep breath, and took the bag with her Apple out–which was in itself an awkward manoeuvre. She kept it within the bag, fiddling around with it for a moment as she gathered her strength to say what she wanted to say.

_‘Stop stalling, Lucrezia.’_

          She stared into those mesmerizing eyes of his, took a deep breath and said at last: “Within this bag... Within this bag lies trapped my soul, Ezio Auditore.”

 

          The whole ambient seemed to have shifted in less than a second. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she suddenly felt naked, more vulnerable than ever, as she finally took the Apple from the bag, and with two steps, placed it on his right hand.

          In a way, giving him the Apple–if only for a moment–was infinitely more dangerous than having one of his hidden blades by her neck, and she couldn’t even attempt to step away, or let his hand and the Apple go. Her whole body trembled, and she could feel her tears falling regardless of how much she wished to keep them from doing so.

          Finally her legs gave out, and she would have most certainly fallen to her knees had Ezio not caught her on time, holding her closely before sitting again, mindful of her abrupt emotional breakdown.

          “I meant to tell you, Ezio,” she said as his warmth calmed her. “Venere gave me a chance to avoid the path that had been set for me. But it had a price, beyond merely being her messenger. I can’t part with that Apple. I can’t, _I can’t_ , because it _holds my life within_.”

 

          He had known about the Apple. Looking at him now, so closely, she just knew. And maybe he had expected some kind of treachery, but she was honestly unable to. Not against him.

* * *

 

_She saw her life passing in front of her. Every betrayal, every loss, every failure._

_It was painful._

_So painful._

_But then she saw another life, another chance. Another purpose._

_The kind caress of a goddess on her cheek._

_Ezio, Ezio, Ezio..._

_“You’ll be a beautiful love story, my child. Just you wait...”_

* * *

 

          She spend an indeterminate moment just there, in his arms, enjoying maybe for the first time in these new life of hers a simple comfort that had not been tainted by those _other_ memories.

          And then he maneuvered her towards his chest, just to put the Apple back in its bag, before handing it back to her. Lucrezia stared at him, not fully aware of how to react, because somehow a part of her kept expecting him to kill her. To punish her, for the crimes her family had committed, for the crimes they would yet commit. For the crimes of that _other-Lucrezia_ , or the ones she had done, on her way to him.

          He didn’t. There was no animosity in his eyes, as he helped her to get back to her feet and politely turned around so she could put the Apple back in its place, only the tie of its bag peeking from her skirts as she tied it firmly by her waist.

          “So, tell me, have you done any operations yet?” He said, once they were both again seated and she had regained some of her poise.

          As if it was merely a friendly conversation.

          As if she hadn’t just given him the perfect way to destroy her.

_‘But then... He never **really** tried to destroy me, now, did he?’_

          Maybe, after all, they _could_ be friends.

          Maybe Ezio Auditore would truly protect a Borgia. Or maybe, just maybe, she could become someone worth protecting.

 

_“These are your first steps, my child...”_

 

          “Oh, by the way, Lucrezia,” he said much later, after hours of easy–dared she say it?–, even _friendly_ conversation. He had gone for a moment to the tailor’s shop while she attended some customers, just to come back with a small leather pouch. “Happy birthday,” he said, handing it to her, quickly disappearing before she could do more than thank him offhandedly.

Within it lied a beautiful necklace, with a black velvet cord and the Assassin symbol etched in silver, holding within a lonely dark pearl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case y’all haven’t realised, Lucrezia’s abrupt meeting with her post-Brotherhood-self left her... Not alright. Worry not, she’ll get better. Also, yeah, Venere doesn’t really care about saving the world. It’s more of an excuse to meddle as much as possible. Because she’s bored and if Juno and Minerva can meddle, so can she.  
> Yes, in this ‘verse, Venere was the one that helped Adam and Eve escape with an Apple of Eden (since she had already had several children with humans that she had freed and left hidden away). That got her trapped in a great Temple, ala Juno with the one in USA, but Venere’s was built by her then husband, Vulcano, specifically to trap her there forever, because her actions kickstarted the war between the Isu and the Humans. The first catastrophe (the one Minerva, Juno and Jupiter were ultimately unable to avoid) loosed it enough for her to be able to meddle somewhat with humanity, especially thorough those who have even just a little of First Civilisation DNA.


	4. Our Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia leaves her home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying French. I _will_ study French. But I also need to stress-write, so here it is. **Warnings for mentions of past abuse and rape (Lucrezia’s canon life sucked)**. I feel like I should note that my version of the Borgias is as based on the Showtime tv series as in Anghraine’s fic _“We get dark, Only to shine.”_

_12 September 1492, Roma_

          She was drowning.

          There was no water, and she was still very much in her own room in her mother’s villa, but she could have very well fallen to the furthest depths of the ocean.  
Lucrezia had never quite found herself in such a situation, but she imagined the impossibility to breathe, as well as the cold that would have sunk deep into her bones, and the darkness that had taken hold of her soul ‘till everything seemed as hopeless as her last unsuccessful labour would all be a proper analogy.

_‘No. Not **my** last labour. Not my past. Not my memories. It’s not me, it’s not me, it’s not me...’_

 

_“Deep breaths, my child. Deep breaths, Lucrezia...”_

 

          _There_ it was. That voice again. The girl, in her painful and feverish state cursed it still, twice or three times, because whatever nightmare she had been put under, she _knew_ it was the voice’s fault.

_‘Venere...’_

{ **xXxXx** }

          It all had been a blur, since the moment she had touched that strange, glowing orb that she now knew was an _Apple of Eden_.

(And, oh, wasn’t the name just _perfect?_ Lucrezia certainly wished she had never taken it. That the knowledge it had revealed her would have been forever left unknown.)

          She remembered being carried into her mother’s villa, Juan’s attempts to explain something about an attack that she hadn’t remembered ever happening sounding more and more frantic as Lucrezia remained more or less immobile.

 

_“I will never wash this blood away.”_

(She couldn’t move.)

 

_“Did you ever love me?”_

 

(Had she been able to, she would have cried herself to exhaustion.)

 

          Strong arms, that she would have recognised everywhere –arms she had always felt absolutely safe in but now just wanted to escape– tucked her into her bed.  
The faint echo of rising voices could be faintly heard even once the door had closed behind him, assuring her that, indeed, Cesare had gone to confront Juan. So she at last relaxed, if only for a second.

          Her mind was a mess of fractured memories, for it all had happened so _quickly_ that she had barely had any time to figure out what had been going on, beyond the strangely crystal-clear moments where she had been far too close to dying for comfort.

_‘Cesare... Why, why, why?’_

          And then, of course, the most clear and disturbing memory of all: her death.

 

          Lucrezia had been having her courses since around her tenth birthday, although both her mother and Cesare had done the utmost to keep it secret, for her father would have had no qualms marrying her sooner than expected (as she now _knew_ ). It had always been uncomfortable for her, for the blood had always been preceded by pain. Now, though, the girl wondered if she would faint at the sight, or if it would only flash her back into the awful scene of her demise, of her blood flowing freely between her legs as her already sapped strength failed her completely.

 _Never_ had she had a more vivid memory.

          But of course, a goddess had cursed her, and so _that_ wasn’t all she could remember. Not when those _memories_ were becoming clearer by the second. And already she wished to not have seen anything of that... that _other-life_. Still, it didn’t seem as if she would have any choice in the matter, regardless of how it threatened to tear her soul to pieces. Because she, who had always been safe, suddenly realised that her heaven, her _peace_ , was nothing but a fleeting lie, the date of that _other-Lucrezia’s life_ far too close for comfort.

          Djem’s presence had thus changed from having a nice friend that made her feel occasionally warm inside –a feeling both _her other self_ and Venere had helped her understand as _attraction_ – into an ominous clock tickling its way towards something she _knew_ she would do anything to avoid.

          And yet.

          And yet...

{ **xXxXx** }

          She could feel cold, wet silk against her face, careful touches taking her sweat away as her brother’s soothing voice hummed quietly her favourite lullaby.

          “Cesare? Cesare? Brother?” She muttered, faint memories of him offering her a bloodied knife flashing before her eyes each time she blinked.

          “I’m here, my love. I’m here...”

* * *

 

_“I promised you a heart, sister,” he had told her._

_“Whose? Your own?” had she answered, feeling happily weightless, the peace he seemed to be able to grant her by merely being in the same room as overwhelming as ever._

_“I promised you the heart of Giovanni Sforza, on a dinner plate,” he had said then, and all air left her. Cesare’s face looked grim, even around her, and for the first time she paid attention to what he had been holding, as he unwrapped it for her to see. “His blood on this knife will have to suffice,” he finished._

* * *

 

          “Cesare...” she had whispered then, lost between her life and that of the _other-Lucrezia_.

          It may have been for the best, that she had lost consciousness soon enough. She wasn’t fully sure what she would have told him, otherwise.

{ **xXxXx** }

          She didn’t want to sleep anymore, nor remember anything else. What she had seen already was more than enough to tarnish all affection she had ever felt for her father and Juan, with the awful feeling that Cesare would soon be within exactly the same category. Already, she felt uneasy around him.

_Phantom hands tightening around her neck..._

_“Did you ever love me?”_

 

          It was unnerving.

          All her life, she had always been able to count on Cesare, no matter how many let downs other members of her family may have made her suffer through. It had always been easy, between them. For even if they were only standing in opposite ends of the same room, his presence alone had quite often been enough to soothe her, a warm peace taking hold of her. A giddiness she could not name, as she had thought more and more often while her aunt made her study Latin and the Scriptures. It was the closest thing she had ever felt, to what she imagined being in God’s magnificent presence would be.

_“When I’m with you... When you’re by my side, Cesare, it’s as if God himself was in the room. Such happiness, it... It overwhelms...”_

          It had often been her only comfort, whenever she thought about how she was forbidden from ever leaving the villa without her brothers. How even through their home’s walls she could at times hear the people passing by, calling them all _marranos_ and _Spaniards_ , calling _her in particular,_ as well as her mother _whores_ and how Cesare hadn’t kept Juan from going out to attack them after that one. How he had seemed almost pleased, when words reached them that many of those that had seen fit to insult their family had been pulled from the Tiber.

_‘Cesare used to keep Juan from acting up, usually frowned upon their brother’s tendency to harm animals as well as people, but he had actually been **pleased** then, hadn’t he?’_

          She had been called _whore_ long before she ever knew what it meant, growing up knowing most of Italy –most of _Roma_ – hated her due to her blood alone, as if her father being from what used to be the realm of Aragon, but most simply conflated with Castile in their ignorance, somehow made her _less_. Less than them, of _pure_ Italian blood, regardless of the fact that her father, now pope, had been the best Vice-Chancellor they had had to date, or so her aunt had told her often enough.

          Lucrezia knew it wasn’t true, those vile things she heard through the villa’s walls, but at times they were like poison, slipping into her mind and making her heart ache as she wondered if there was something wrong with her, or her blood.

Cesare had always been able to dispel such notions with his presence alone.

          To be left without the support she had always counted on from him, so suddenly, made her hate the memories and the Apple she nonetheless could not seem to stop herself from hiding _even more_ than she already did.

 _“If God won’t protect us, I will,”_ he had sworn her, not long ago.

          Words that had warmed her heart had turned to ash in her mouth. What was she to do now? Each one of the truths she had built her word around had been thoughtlessly crushed. Her world had turned around in an instant and for her life, Lucrezia could not regain her footing.

          She could accept that her father would put her second to his ambitions. From the start she had known, as much as she loved him and he cared for her, Rodrigo Borgia had his priorities written in stone, and unfortunately enough, neither Lucrezia nor Cesare were within them. Not before the papacy, and not before Juan.

          She could believe, as much as it hurt, that Juan would be cruel enough to dangle her baby over a balcony to prove a point.

_But Cesare?_

          She had loved him more than anything in her life. She _knew_ **he** had loved her more than anything in his life.  
They had been Cesare and Lucrecia, _Cèsar amb Lucrècia_ , two halves of an inseparable whole for as long as could recall.

 

_“Don’t you love God, Cesare?”_

_“More than I love you?”_

 

          He had always been by her side. A steady presence, a trustful reassurance that remained on her side even when the one to wrong her was Juan. The one and only who would always, always, _always_ remain _on her side_. Trustworthy. _Safe_.

          But... could she _truly_ condemn him for things that hadn’t happened? Even when the mere thought of cutting the connection between them left her breathless, intensifying the pain she felt in her chest every time she remembered his hand tightening around her neck while his cold glare pierced her?

 

_“Did you ever love me?”_

 

          And yet... could she really, _truly_ ignore everything she had seen? Even then, she could feel him nearby, and the company that should have comforted her caused her distress as well. Separating him from that _other-him_ was hard.

* * *

 

 _“Lucrezia?”_ _She had heard it in his voice, a fear he had rarely shown, as she lied motionless by the cooling corpse of her second husband._ _“Lucrezia... **Lucrezia!** ”_ _He was frantic as he rushed to her side, checking her pulse._

_(As if she could ever grant herself the mercy she had granted her dear Alfonso...)_

_He had sighed, relieved, when certain that she remained within the living. And **yet**._

_“I will never wash this blood away,”_ _had been her only answer._

_(Nothing would ever change the fact that that time, that time, the man her soulmate had killed for her had been **innocent**.)_

_Yet Cesare, she knew, would never accept that. He would never allow her time to grieve, now that she had been taken from him two times already. Lucrezia had known at that precise moment that it wouldn’t matter what happened or what atrocities the both of them would commit, because he would never, never, **never** let her go._

_“Then I must,”_ _had been his answer, right before he had started to do exactly that, a wet handkerchief wiping away Alfonso’s blood as Cesare’s final oath was engraved in her soul._ _“You will be naked, and clean, and bloodless again. And **mine**...”_

* * *

 

          She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, or how she had found herself in her nightgown, tucked into her bed at her mother’s villa.

_(Cesare. Of course, of course, it had to have been Cesare.)_

          No. _No_ , she could do nothing but cry.   For the _other-Cesare,_ that had been consumed by whatever madness the Staff and the Apple had brought out in him. For the _other-Lucrezia,_ and her fruitless search for true love, the kind of long-lasting affection she had been ultimately denied forever. And she cried for herself, too, because only then could she see how blissful her ignorance had been. How _happy_ her innocence had allowed her to be, back when she could still hope that her father wouldn’t sell her off for political connections, her dearest brother losing himself to the darkness that had always accosted him without her by his side. She cried, and her Cesare –his presence by her side feeling as natural as breathing air– held her through it all, as he had always done.

_‘I cannot lose you. God help me, I cannot lose you. Venere, please, please, please...’_

 

          “I’ve been having nightmares, brother,” she said, what seemed like an eternity later, voice hoarse and tears spent. His fingers were gently caressing her hair, and she knew he would have battled her night terrors had he had the chance. “They are like memories. So vivid...”

          “Sis...”

          “Will I have to marry, Cesare?”

          “Not if I have any say, my love.”

          He was still holding her tight, and through her nightgown she could feel his ring, cold as ice through the silk.

          “I saw you killing Juan for my shake.”

_‘For your own, as well, so great was your desire to free yourself from the role father had given you.’_

          He shivered, shocked shivers going through him and moving her in the process, so tightly he was holding her.

          “Would he have harmed you?” was his only question.

          “He would have torn my soul to pieces,” she told him.  
Talking about Giovanni, _her_ Giovanni, was still something she could not bring herself to do. Even if Cesare well could have been her baby’s father.

... As vividly as she remembered his hands around her neck, she also remembered... _remembered..._

_‘It wouldn’t matter. Days after Juan threatened to kill him, my baby disappeared...’_

          No. No. Not _her_ baby. The _other-Lucrezia’s_ baby.

          Cesare sighed, as if accepting a heavy burden, and then relaxed. She had known he would, of course. A part of her _knew_ , instinctively, that he would burn the world for her if needed.

_‘ **My** Cesare would. Will that change this time as well? Will the thrice damned Staff take him from my side again? Am I already losing him?’ _

          “Whoever gets in the way of your happiness will feel my wrath,” he said at last, gently lifting her head, a single finger under her chin. His eyes were warm, as they always were when he looked at her, and yet now they were also bursting with determination. “We are the unholy family, Lucrezia.”

_“If God won’t protect us, I will.”_

          “Are we doomed, brother?”

          “You? Never.”

{ **xXxXx** }

          When their father started talking about marriage, Lucrezia knew that she wasn’t the only one making preparations.

          She had, after all, eventually told Cesare many of the things she had seen –if nothing about Ezio Auditore or his allies due to Venere’s urgent insistence. It hadn’t surprised her when she had heard of Giovanni Sforza’s death. Somehow, she was unable to muster enough pity for the man. The very _vivid_ recollections of him raping her were probably a big part of the reason, so she only thanked her stars that she hadn’t told Cesare about her other two husbands, at least not by name.

          As kind as they had been to her, each one in their own way, she knew that her brother would not doubt arrange their deaths too.

_‘I’ll save him, too. I’ll find a way...’_

* * *

 

_4 December 1492, Roma_

          The pope had left in a mission of some sort –a Templar issue, as Cesare had told her, even if to their father she remained clueless–, leaving her in charge. Leaving her, most importantly, _with the Papal Staff_. For a whole _week_.

          “It’s time for me to go, Cesare,” had she told him once Consistory ended –mostly due to the cardinals’ offended sensibilities at seeing _a woman_ on the throne of Saint Peter. She had only held three of them: one to announce her appointment as her father’s substitute, one to move them to invest in Roma, and one to announce her father’s impending arrival.

          Her brother had fixed on her an unwavering stare, as aware as she was that their father would return soon, and that after the tempting offer he had gotten for her hand –and the dowry that they would be provided once Prince Djem died, which her father had just-so-happened to arrange by slipping the right rumours in the right ears ‘till they reached the Assassins– she would soon be married off. To _whom_ , she had not bothered to learn, but she knew it would be someone Cesare would no longer be able to just get killed without rising much suspicion.

_‘Not yet, at least...’_

          “Love...”

          “I know. But I’ll be safe.”

 _‘... till I pass on Venere’s message’_ , but she did not say this. After all, maybe –just _maybe_ – Ezio Auditore would choose to spare her life.

          “You’re planning to take the artefact, don’t you?”

          It was hiding under her bed already, wrapped in long, white shreds of fabric to make it less recognisable. But her brother would benefit of having deniability.

          “It’s better if I don’t tell you...”

          “Allow me to escort you, at the very least...”

          “You worry too much, brother dearest,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be okay.”

          He hugged her tightly. She took in his warmth, and his familiar scent, trying her best not to flinch when her memories of _the other-him_ assaulted her yet again.

_‘My Cesare will never betray me. I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way to save you...’_

          “Be careful then. Father will know you were involved in its disappearance...” He took her face between his hands, and for a fleeting second the feeling of those same hands around her neck didn’t overwhelm her. “Lucrezia, please, be careful. Send word, even if you don’t tell from were. Send word, if only to tell me you’re still alive.”

          “I’ll send you word. If I can. But I must go, brother. Tonight.”

 

          He didn’t say a thing then, merely holding her tightly one last time, before backing a little to stare at her as if he wanted to memorise her face. And yet, when he went, he left behind a bag with many coins, and a dagger. His best horse was mysteriously left ready to be ridden that night.

          So she swore to herself that she would find a way to change his faith, as Venere had changed hers, and set herself to part, the full moon illuminating her way.

* * *

 

(She would send _word_ much later, in the form of a dazzled Florentine whore that would find herself in Rome with only a message in mind. “ _Lucretia still lives_ ,” she would say, once Cesare accepted to see her. “ _Lucretia still lives_ ,” before she _awoke_ , confused as to how she had reached Roma and why she had fallen in Borgia hands.  
She would, though, eventually make her way back home.

After all, Cesare knew well enough not to end his sister’s messengers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still... _unsure_ about this chapter. To be clear, though, Lucrezia is no longer on her father’s side. Nor in the Templar’s side. She _does_ want to save Cesare, because he does mean **a lot** to her. The messenger was sent around the time Lu started to study under the dottore.  
>  __


End file.
